


Drink(s)

by slashmania



Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [9]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur and Eames drinking, Drink, Drinks, M/M, use of 'Tubthumping' lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: Arthur, Eames, and drinks of many kinds.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503791
Kudos: 8





	Drink(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9: Drink  
> 1,446 words
> 
> Editing as I go, sorry if I missed something stupid.

1\. Alcohol

“Is this really a good idea, Arthur?”

The point man was still walking into the bar, resolute and sure.

“I promised myself that once Cobb got home, I was going to go drinking without worrying about needing to stay sharp and ready to kick something or someone’s ass.”

Eames, who had been working on a plan for several years to get with Arthur, couldn’t believe that he was questioning Arthur’s first act as a free point man. Free from Cobb. Free to do whatever he wanted. Or whomever he wanted—

Arthur stopped and grabbed Eames’s arm. “Look, I just want to go drinking. But I’m being completely honest when I say that I’m a sure thing, Eames. Go into this bar with me and we’ll likely go back to the hotel, together.”

Eames stopped resisting. “Well, okay then.”

One drink turned into several drinks, until it seemed like Arthur was intent on living Chumbawamba’s _Tubthumping_.

-

_Arthur had a whisky drink._

“Have I mentioned how much I love whisky?” Arthur was saying to Eames. Or sometimes while he was saying it he’d be looking into the tulip shaped glass the alcohol had been poured in. So it sort of looked like he was telling the whisky how much he loved it.

Eames ordered the same and thought that Arthur had a point. That it made sense because he was a _point man_. Eames had barely finished his drink and he was already smiling to himself over that joke. Maybe he would tell Arthur later. Or not, because it was pretty dumb.

-

_Then Arthur had a vodka drink._

“Must I?”

Arthur was holding up his martini glass and smiling. “I think you must, Mr. Eames.”

Eames sighed and put down his whisky, just so he could do the impression and maybe make Arthur smile like that again. He drank some of the water they’d both asked for, then cleared his throat.

“Vodka martini. Shaken, but not stirred.”

Arthur started laughing, probably much harder than he should for that kind of joke, but he seemed so pleased with it Eames just let him enjoy himself.

“Just like James Bond! You’re just like James Bond!”

-

_Then Arthur had a lager drink._

“You _really_ should reconsider that,” Eames said.

“I’ve never had a lager before,” Arthur answered. “Whenever I hear the word lager I think its something different from beer. But I’ve never had beer anyway. No time like the present.”

“Then you’ve never had a massive hangover from mixing several types of alcohol. Trust me, Arthur, you are going to feel awful later on.”

Arthur looked at Eames and smiled again, and damn it, Eames was starting to do lots of things for that stupid smile! _Stupid things for that stupid smile!_

“And if I don’t like it I’ll just switch to one of the other drinks I had.”

But he didn’t. He also ordered another whisky.

-

_Then Arthur had a cider drink._

Arthur got a bottle of cider and took a test sip. He considered the flavor and said to Eames, like he was testing it for him before offering some, “It tastes like apple cider...and wine. White wine apple cider.”

“I’m sure that it really tastes like a bad decision, Arthur. Isn’t it horrible that I’m trying to be your conscience right now?”

That seemed to reach Arthur’s muddled state of mind. He frowned at Eames and said, “That’s got to be awful for you, Mr. Eames. You shouldn’t have to be my conscience now.”

“Well I didn’t mean that it was something that I _wouldn’t_ do for you if you needed it, Arthur, but I think that you’ve probably had enough. Let’s get you to bed.”

Arthur smiled a slow smile that really shouldn’t have been attractive, but damn it, Eames had been waiting for years to see Arthur do anything but frown at him and tonight was the night for that.

“You’re really the devil on my shoulder, aren’t you? You don’t have to say it out loud, you could just wink at me or something, and I’d get it.”

So Eames didn’t wink at him. He paid the bill, thanked the bartender who dealt with Arthur’s laughing fit, his many requests for refills of one of the four drinks he ordered, giving the man a hefty tip, and then escorted Arthur out of the bar.

They leaned against one another, Arthur whispering into Eames’s ear. “Didn’t catch that wink.”

“Because I’m not a devil, love.”

“But you’re on my shoulder now, sort of!”

* * *

2\. Water

Arthur got them into the hotel room, excused himself and left Eames (who had drank only four whisky drinks to Arthur’s I’m gonna drink these four kinds of drinks mindset) sitting on the edge of the bed, buzzed.

And then Arthur vomited in the bathroom. Eames listened in concern, already stumbling to Arthur’s luggage to find the pain pills Arthur would want later, stumbled across Arthur’s lube and condoms and then got a little side-tracked over how prepared Arthur was. Even when they had to keep containers and liquids to a minimum in their luggage during air travel, he’d _still_ considered the likelihood of sex. Or sex with himself. But still safe sex, in general.

He is so responsible, Eames thought fondly as he finally found the Advil.

Eames found one of the bottles of cold water in the mini-fridge and was prepared to leave any funny business or other sex acts for later. Arthur would probably just want to sleep as much as possible.

It was true. Arthur stumbled out of the bathroom looking a little pale, but was pleased to notice that Eames had been waiting on the other side to hand him the toothbrush and toothpaste from his luggage.

Arthur went to bed after that and slept like the dead. Eames was on one side of that bed and managed to doze off.

* * *

3\. Coffee and Tea

Their breakfast arrived from room service, and Arthur was swallowing down coffee like it was the only thing to stop his headache.

“I’ll order up another carafe of coffee, love,” Eames said, reaching for the hotel phone.

But Arthur shook his head. “No, no. This will be fine. I can’t use coffee like a crutch to get through this. It was a dumb idea to mix several types of alcohol.”

Eames sipped his tea, happy that his own headache was much smaller than Arthur’s. He also wasn’t going to make a comment, negative or positive about how much Arthur drank. Or what he drank.

Eames only wanted to be helpful. He had been able to do things like draw the blinds so Arthur wouldn’t have an issue with the bright California sun leaking through the shades. He had ordered two breakfasts from room service. And then Eames shoved most of his own breakfast towards Arthur so the point man could have a larger helping of omelet, potatoes, and toast, while Eames had tea and toast. He’d already suspected that the portions might be smaller, and wanted Arthur to have something to ease his hangover and fill his stomach.

“At least I don’t feel sick anymore,” Arthur said as he finished his food, and technically Eames’s food, but he’d managed to persuade Eames to ‘have half of his own portion for fuck’s sake.’

* * *

4\. Potions

“Here!”

Eames wasn’t paying attention to anything but the pain. It was indescribable, but he’d have to start by saying it was a stabbing pain.

Mostly because he had been stabbed, thoroughly.

But since he was in a dream, it wasn’t that dire even if it hurt like hell.

Arthur appeared before him, dressed in armor and generally looking less wounded than Eames did.

He knelt by Eames’s side and pulled a small corked bottle from the pouch at his side.

It was glowing, so Eames wasted his breath to inform Arthur of this.

“It’s glowing. It’s glowing blue, Arthur.”

“This will restore some of your health, so just drink it!”

Eames was hesitant, but he finally swallowed down the glowing blue liquid.

“I’m going to say something that could come off as being really rude, but you _do_ have some imagination, Arthur! That glowing stuff really did fix me!”

There was no stab wound, no blood. Eames was feeling a little tired, so maybe he wasn't back to full strength, but he’d live to fight another battle in this messed up fantasy video game dreamscape.

Arthur smirked. “You’re lucky you didn’t die. I don’t care if the logic of a JRPG is making this possible; I doubt a Phoenix Down will bring you back if you go to Limbo.”


End file.
